Malicious Intent
by Lula1
Summary: Chapter 3 uploaded...finally!!! Frank's team has to go to specialized training, but their lives may never be the same again. Unexpected developments turn training into a living hell. Will be 'R' later for violence. Please R&R..Thanks!
1. Retrospection

MALICIOUS INTENT  
  
CHAPTER 1 RETROSPECTION  
  
"You've gotta be kidding me!" exclaimed Cody. "We have to go thru what kinda training?"  
  
"Cody, this is now an integral part of our training program, according to this memo," Monica told him. "I have no idea what they are talking about on this, but it sounds serious. I guess Frank has put off the training for us as long as he could." She sighed, not too happy with the faxed memo addressed to Frank.  
  
Normally, Frank would have been the first to arrive. Of course, he would have gotten the memo before anyone had the chance to retrieve the copy from the machine. Now, the precarious memo preyed on Monica's inquisitive mind.  
  
"What's going on?" Jake said, walking in the door. He only caught the part about a training program, and was curious as to what new type of bureaucratic bull they were up against.  
  
"We have to go through some specialized training of some sorts. Apparently, it's been in use for sometime now. However, we happened to slip through the cracks, since we've been so busy this year," Monica replied.  
  
Cody just sat and brooded over the situation. He hated this type of training, since it didn't involve the grand realm of the computer world. Anything dealing with computers was a green light, but this, however, was not to his liking at all. This seemed to be on the physical type of training.  
  
"Well, maybe, since we are still in the middle of a stack of files needing investigation, Frank can pull some strings?" Cody said, pulling excuses out of midair.  
  
"No such luck, Cody," Monica said. "You know Frank, he won't buck the system unless he thinks it's an absolutely necessity."  
  
The door to the Nest opened, and they were expecting Frank, but Alex strolled in, happy for some odd reason on a bright Monday morning. The happy look on her face was short lived, when seeing the faces of her comrades-in-arms. Her smile dropped.  
  
"What's the matter now?" Alex inquired, not really sure that she wanted to know.  
  
"We've been ordered to go through some specialized training," Monica told her. "But they didn't specify what kind. All it says is that we're to be going to an undisclosed location for it."  
  
"Probably one of those survival type training things I've been reading about," Cody added.  
  
"What?" they all responded, simultaneously.  
  
Cody just shrugged his shoulders, grinning. He, the computer geek, was always delving deep into the Justice Department's files. He could hack his way into most anything, with the exception of only a few areas, and, of course, Frank Donovan's file. That particular file had remained a mystery to them from day one.  
  
"I hacked into some of the Department's files, and read a little something about a fairly new program that's been going on for a couple of years. It's really intense, but doesn't explain any details. All I know is that it said that it's in a remote location, and that it will either make or break you. It's gotta be bad."  
  
All eyes were riveted on Cody. That little tidbit of information wasn't enough to satiate their hunger for information. They wanted to know exactly what was in store for them.  
  
"Ok then, that explains why you think it's a survival training course. No big deal, we've been through survival training before," Jake said. "When did you get a look at that particular file?"  
  
"I don't know, can't remember. I know it's been at least a few months ago," Cody answered.  
  
"Why didn't you tell us about this!?" Alex exclaimed.  
  
"I didn't think that we'd really have to go through it. We've been so busy, much more than most teams, so I thought we would be bypassed. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem the case now, does it?" Cody replied.  
  
"Cody, there's something wrong with this picture! You never forget to let us know anything new or special going on. How could you have slipped up concerning something like this?" asked Monica.  
  
Cody just shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to say.  
  
"Great, just great!" added Alex, lighting up a cigarette. 'And where the heck is Frank?' she wondered.  
  
"Hey, where's Frank?" asked Monica, seeming to read Alex's mind. "He's always here before we arrive. Maybe he already got called in on this?"  
  
As if on cue, the door to the Nest opened, and Frank walked in. Quietly, he nodded to the team, muttered a faint 'good morning', and headed up the stairs.  
  
Frank sat down behind his desk, contemplating what his team was going to have to endure. He hated this program! He'd already been through it, and it was by far the worst training program that he had ever been through. For several months after the training, he had to go through a lot of psychological therapy to overcome the harsh treatment of the training. Deep down inside, he felt sorry for his team. As a matter of fact, he felt sorry for any agent that had to go through this program. But in all things, good or bad, it was for their own good. He benefited from it, after all the necessary therapy following it was finished.  
  
But the cold hard facts were, he'd never been the same since; it was a make or break program. It didn't actually break him, but he was never the same. Frank was no longer the openly friendly and trusting person he once was. He had to gain a person's trust over a longer period of time. And still, he couldn't open up to them as he would like to do. He had lost someone very dear to him in that accursed program, and so would not let anyone get too close to him anymore. His heart couldn't take it. That part of him was long since gone, leaving him the loner he had become. Frank had been one of their guinea pigs; the Department would never know when a situation would arise that the program's experience would prove beneficial for.  
  
Unfortunately, Frank had found out the hard way whether or not the program worked. Shortly after his discharge when his therapy had ended, he had to make a drastic decision to trade his life to protect another man; willfully placing himself in the hands of the abductors he was trying to negotiate with. He had endured their brutality, but it only proved to drive him deeper within his already battered mind.  
  
Frank just hoped that the treatment they were to endure wouldn't break his much-trusted team.  
  
Running his fingers through his hair, Frank thought about the two women under him. He really hated that part of the training, what they would go through was much worse than what the guys would go through. He worried over them, didn't want to see them go through it, but never would he let them see his inner thoughts. He might come over as too sexist, he knew that they could take care of themselves. They were both very capable women, but nevertheless, he didn't know what impact the program would have on Monica and Alex.  
  
There was a knock at his door, but Frank was in such deep thought, he didn't even hear it. Alex poked her head in, but Frank was miles away in thought, she could see. The rest of the team followed her in and stood by Frank's desk, watching in awe that his thoughts were so deep that their presence didn't even register.  
  
A gentle touch to his shoulder brought him back to reality. He looked up rather startled. How could they have sneaked up on him like that? Or had they? Frank realized that this issue was clouding his mind way too much.  
  
"Frank, what's going on?" Alex asked, unsure of what to say.  
  
They all stared at Frank, as he hesitated. Slowly, he looked up at his team. There would be no beating around the bush concerning this issue. There was no getting around this program; he had fought it all morning with his superiors. They had too large of a workload as it was, but the Department heads told him that the work could wait, there were new developments concerning this program, and since his team was going in for the training, they were the ones chosen to investigate while there. That was their curse, as Frank's team was the best of the best. But as of yet, his superiors had refused to tell him what the new developments were.  
  
"I have some bad news," Frank said. "You four have to go through the newest program that the Department has. There is no way to back out, unless you decide to resign."  
  
All of them just stood and stared, at what Frank was saying. For him to say it in that way, it had to be much worse than they anticipated.  
  
"What kind of training is this?" Monica inquired, nervously.  
  
"Terrorist and Abduction training. How to survive through the various forms of treatment and torture that people are subjected to in these types of predicaments. It is not a pleasure trip; it is not something that I recommend. If any of you wish to resign, I completely understand," Frank said, averting his eyes, unable to control his rising anguish.  
  
They all looked at each other wondering just how bad this was really going to be. They were even more worried because of the way Frank was acting. For him to even suggest that it was okay with him if they wanted to resign, it had to be really bad.  
  
They all made up their minds together. No one spoke; they didn't have to. They were a team, and, by God, that was how they were going to stay.  
  
Jake was the first to speak up. "Frank, we'll go through whatever we have to. But we're a team; that means we stick together through whatever may come our way. And you are our leader; we'll do whatever you say, you know that. We trust you implicitly. But Frank, we just want to know what this involves. I mean, just what are we to expect?"  
  
Frank sighed deeply. How could he explain something so emotionally devastating and physically tormenting? There were no words to really describe the horror they would go through in that one-month's time.  
  
"Your worst nightmare," was all he said. Getting up, he started to walk past his team towards the door. He couldn't take anymore of the thoughts pervading his mind of what he had to endure and still keep a small measure of composure.  
  
"When do we go?" asked Alex, pensively.  
  
"We leave in two days," responded Frank, stopping onto the door's threshold.  
  
"We?" asked Jake, taking a note of that reference, but Frank just raised a hand to silence him.  
  
Just as Frank was heading out the door, his boss suddenly met him, blocking the path of Frank's much needed escape.  
  
"Frank, I need to talk to you," Bloom said, glancing at the others. "Alone."  
  
"Whatever you have to say, can be said in front of my team. I am not hiding anything from them. This is too dangerous of a program for lucrative surprises. I'm not letting them walk in with blindfolds on," Frank said, determined.  
  
"There is no reason for you to go through this program again, Frank," Bloom said. "You know what you went through the first time and how you suffered afterwards. No one should ever have to be subjected to the program twice, much less volunteer to go. Are you out of your mind, Frank?"  
  
"No more than you are for masterminding this program!" Frank responded. "Where my team goes, I go. No excuses, no alternative measures. What Jake said is true; we're a team. I may be in charge of it, but I am a part of them, as they're a part of me. We work together on this, or nothing. I would never allow them to go into this type of scenario while I sit back and observe."  
  
"Frank," said Bloom, sounding exasperated. "It's been proven already that one time is really all an agent should endure. Some can't even endure the program at all! The toughest agents have been tested. A few were sent through on a test program, just to see what the outcome would be a second time. Two are now in our mental institution! The other's behavior is suicidal at best. I don't want to see you wind up like them. DON'T!" he implored.  
  
"NO!" Frank yelled at his boss. "I gave you my answer already this morning, and it won't change! I'm not letting them go in without me, and that's final! If anything happened to them, and I wasn't there to try and help, you might as well put me in the institution with them, or in a casket. Because if anything happened to them and I could've been there to help, and wasn't, I might as well be dead."  
  
The whole team was quite disturbed at this startling revelation. Now, they knew that Frank had already been through the terrorist/abduction program. That must have been why his file was impenetrable. Their implicit faith in their boss cranked up through the roof. How could this man, who had been subjected to what seemed to be a living nightmare, walk willfully into the same situation, all for the sake of his team? A renewed pride and confidence flowed through them all like a current of electricity. They were walking into what, they didn't know. But one thing was for sure; they weren't going in alone.  
  
Frank just stared at his superior, not relenting one tiny bit. "What're the details of this new 'development' that you're keeping from me?" he queried.  
  
"In time Frank, you will know," Bloom said.  
  
"No, I want to know now, not later. I'm tired of this bureaucratic blockade that you throw up when someone higher up decides it's in our best interest not to know! We're walking into God knows what, and we're supposed to just trust whatever the Department decides to throw at us?"  
  
Bloom said nothing.  
  
"How about you save us some time and skip the bureaucratic bull and give us the down and dirty?" Frank snapped. "I'm tired of this department skirting issues where the end result is either that you're dead or wish you were!" 


	2. Past Revisited

  
  


_Oops...I forgot to put the disclaimer on the first chapter...DUH!...oh well...of course, I don't own any of the original characters of UC Undercover. My sincere apologies for leaving out that ever so important little tidbit of information, which can get us into a whole mess of trouble if we don't. Amazing, huh? _

  


_Thanks to all of you wonderful folks for the awesome reviews! Also, to those of you who emailed me in concern over my not posting more on the story...my thanks. Life has been quite rough lately, and I have had little if no time to do any writing, reading/reviewing. But now I'm back...and hopefully...this is worth the wait. _

  
  
  


_MALICIOUS INTENT_

  
  


_CHAPTER 2 PAST REVISITED_

  


Bloom contemplated the position Frank had put him in and wasn't going to take the wrap for this. Yes, he had been the one who devised the program, but he wasn't the one who actually set the wheels in motion. He had given it over to Esquivel and at first, all went well with the program. Then things started going awry. Agents were turning up missing. No one knew of their whereabouts and Esquivel was at a loss for answers. No way they could have escaped from that island. _'And why would they?' _Bloom thought. 

  


Over and over, Bloom tossed around what information had been given him concerning the strange disappearances of agents. They was only one in the first year...but now there were eight missing.

  


He hated it. Had argued with the higher-ups about sending in Frank's team. But they wouldn't hear any arguments contrary to their decision. Now, there was hell to pay for, with Frank. He always clashed with Frank, but he knew that Frank was the best man he could ultimately have when the chips were down. He had never been Frank's favorite person, and he knew there were many valid reasons for it. Still, knowing how Frank had suffered during the training and the residual effects it had produced made him shudder.

  


Bloom reluctantly re-entered the nest for the second time that day. He would have rather have transmitted the information. But as usual, his superiors had given him the ultimatum to deliver it in hand to Frank or he would be looking for another job.

  


Now, file in hand, he reluctantly walked into the Nest. Looking around, he saw Cody, Alex and Jake sitting and mulling over unclear facts of this lucrative mission they had to endure. They had very little information to work on and it was driving them insane.

  


Jake saw Bloom enter the door, and stared at the man. He wasn't much at sorting out a person's character, but he knew he didn't like the man. Maybe it was infectious. Frank didn't like him, and well, the rest of the team wasn't too up on him. Now, all he could think of was what Bloom was toting in his briefcase. He knew it couldn't be good, judging from the look on Bloom's face. Then again, maybe Bloom just hated to have another confrontation with Frank. Who could know?

  


Bloom saw Jake sitting and staring at him. Jake, coming out of his deep thoughts, motioned up the stairs. With a sigh, Bloom started for the stairs. Jake rose from his seat and walked in his path.

  


"I wouldn't go up just yet," Jake said, shaking his head. "He hasn't calmed down. Monica is with him and as of yet...she hasn't had any success."

  


"I'm afraid that Monica won't make any progress concerning his problem," Bloom said ruefully.

  


"Why is that? What did they _do _to him? What really happens at this so called 'indisclosed location' that is so bad, that it can take a man down like Frank?"

  


"That is classified information, Agent Shaw," Bloom said, his voice thick with the bluntness of denial. " Anything that goes on there is classified. Which is to be seen by the eyes of those in higher offices and by psychiatrists and the counselors assigned to rehab. DO NOT try to retrieve that information!"

  


"I assure you, Agent Bloom, I don't even have the knowledge to do such a thing, nor would I try and break any Department rules," Jake assured him.

  


"Right, Agent Shaw, Bloom said, disbelief lacing his voice. I am aware of your incapacity in that area, but I am not ignorant. I know of your tenacity when faced with great odds. I know very well of Agent Forester's tenacity as well, and the fact that he is very adept in that area. If any of you try to retrieve that information, the repercussions will be more than the information is worth," Bloom said, glaring.

  


Jake stared impassively as Bloom brushed past him towards the stairs that Jake was attempting to block. Feeling the need to know even more so now, he turned to Cody. Cody hadn't even looked towards Jake to know what he was thinking. Jake could tell in Cody's expression that he would crack the code to Frank's file if it was the last thing he ever did. He had to know, they all had to know.

  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  


Frank toyed with the pen he was holding, staring at the wall before him. He had buried the pain so deep, he didn't want to even think about the agony he had endured. Monica sat across the desk, pensively studying him with an intensity that even surprised herself. She was so afraid of what had erupted from Frank earlier in the day, the nagging ache to understand and help never left her. She knew some things about the psychological effects that were the result of severe trauma, and wanted desperately to help Frank. He was reclusive and cold most of the time, but they all had seen glimpses of the man they knew was hidden behind the mask of stone. That man deserved to be let out and Monica vowed to herself to do anything possible to help him come out of that hardened shell and face his personal and professional demons.

  


For how long she sat there, she had no clue. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been hours for that matter. Time seemed to stand still. The pain that had emerged to the surface of Frank's features had never left. Bloom and his cohorts were responsible for this. She was sure that there was much more to this than what little information they were able to retrieve had stated. There was no way that anyone as tough as Frank could be affected by something referred to simply as 'terrorist/abduction' training that was meant for an agents benefit. Something was amiss about this training program. And above all, they were walking in blind. Why the Department wanted them to go in like that, not knowing what they faced, was beyond her. 

  


Never had any information been denied them concerning the various training sessions they had to go through, and definitely, no information was ever withheld about any case they were working on. Many times, in the beginning, they had tried to retrieve information on Frank, but they gave up after awhile as nothing Cody could do with his techno wizardry would unlock his file. Of course, she knew that there were more than just his file that was deemed 'classified', but Cody had managed to crack most of the codes of the other files that were deemed 'classified' and most were rather interesting and implicating in content, but were not so bad as to have the 'hands off' classification.

  


Frank kept twirling his pen on the desk, staring into the very depths of the wall, threatening to bore an inescapable abyss in it. The pain was so hideous in his eyes, as his thoughts took him through the torment he endured and had effectively hid in the recesses of his trained mind ever since. It was being forced to the surface by broaching the subject of the 'questionable' training.

  


It was most painful to watch him like this. Never had Monica seen him suffer emotional turmoil like this. She had witness flickers of various emotions in him that had threatened to surface during the numerous cases they had solved. Some of those were very emotional at that. Seeing someone whose life had been snuffed out just for someones sadistic pleasure was not something that anyone in their right mind would flippantly approach or walk away from emotionally untouched. Frank's emotions had threatened to surface on many an occasion as such, but nothing like this. Monica finally couldn't take anymore. Looking down at her watch, she realized she had been sitting in Frank's office for nearly an hour, watching his features betray him as he agonized through the past memories. She spoke.

  


"Frank, I want to help you," Monica earnestly insisted. "Holding in the pain you endured will do nothing but make the suffering much worse. Sometimes just talking through a past experience can help one face it. Please, open up to me. Let me in. Let me try to help you."

  


The moments seemed interminable. Monica finally came to the realization that she wasn't going to reach him. Slowly, she started to rise. Turning, Monica hesitantly began to make steps for the door. Grabbing the handle, she heard him clear his throat. She stopped when she heard his attempt to verbalize something that fought to stay buried.

  


"Monica, this situation we are facing is one like you've never experienced before. It's not that I don't want your help, I just can't face the fact that you and the rest will have to endure this. I don't even know if 'I' can take it again. There are no words that can describe a situation that is equivocal at best."

  


Monica turned to face Frank. "Equivocal? What do you mean, Frank? What makes you suspicious of this program?

  


Frank stood, slowly he made his way over to the windows. Dusk was well in its descent, and the darkness of night would soon be upon them. In a little over twenty-four hours, they would be headed to a destination best described as 'hell on earth'. How could one describe the hideous acts that were experienced there? The utter humiliation? Normally when someone went through a special training program, one had a sense of personal satisfaction in successfully completing it. But not this one. There were no laurels to be had, no triumphs to inwardly smile upon, but nightmare upon endless nightmare for the rest of their lives and to never be the same man or woman again. Was that the Justice Department's idea of personal and professional achievement? To relive the unspeakable acts over and over for the rest of one's life? Bloom had said that some agents were institutionalized and one of them had attempted suicide. Deep down, Frank could understand completely. This program was one that needed to be scratched, never more to afflict the men and women who lay their life on the line everyday for the sake of duty and humanity.

  


"As long as I can remember, I wanted to do something that would benefit people. To do something that would make a difference in their lives. I thought I had found the answer years ago when I decided to join the Bureau, and help take out the evil influence that was destroying young and old alike. Too many times as a young child, I had seen crime first hand. At first, when I joined the Bureau, there seemed to be a lot of positive things going on. Of course, I was just a novice at the time and wasn't aware of the secret departments and the underhanded approaches some agents had.

  


Pausing, Frank turned and looked at Monica with hurt gleaming in his eyes. Never did he anticipate the underhandedness of his higherups. He shouldn't have been so naive. But his knowledge of the intricate workings of the bureau hadn't dawned on him as a young agent. The first major operation he led, was the reason that the Bureau had developed this program. Maybe it was his fault; his failure to bring the men under him safely through the mission and break that large drug operation. Maybe he deserved the mental anguish he was suffering, afterall. 

  


A gentle nudge from Monica, prompted him out of his private accusations, and to continue his story.

  


"Supposedly, I had been under close scrutiny for a few years by the Bureau's upper echelon. These were in fact, my first three years as an agent. My partner, who had been an agent for over ten years, was in charge. But nevertheless, they liked how I worked and how I handled tricky situations. Even as a fairly new agent, they told me they were impressed by my performance and said that I had a natural ability for leadership and wanted to utilize it to the fullest," Frank said, frustrated. "That was the day that they told me that they had a special operation that I was to lead. At first, I couldn't believe that they were already putting me in charge of an operation, and when I found out what type it was and the severity of it, I had my doubts. But Bloom and some of the other higherups told me they had a lot of faith in my natural abilities. It would take me deep into the Columbian Cartel and into the very heart of Luis Cortina's operation. I went in undercover, alone at first. The game plan was to go in as a major buyer and would have the means to transport a huge shipment of cocaine and heroin to the states and had multiple connections in all the branches of the Justice Department so that we could ship extremely large quantities and go undetected."

  


Frank stopped and stared aimlessly at the windowsill. Monica walked over to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Go on, Frank. I know this has got to be difficult, but just let it all out," she said reassuringly.

  


Running his fingers through his hair, Frank looked intently into her eyes. "I was 26 years old, and alone. I was to have some backup that was supposed to be showing up as the men who were in my employment. One man, Agent Hernandez, was posing as my business partner, so that the operation would seem phathomable, since my business operation was a very large one. Bloom said that everyone had agreed that it would look better if I had a partner and Hernandez 'insisted' that he pose as my partner. Well, Hernandez and the other agents showed up as planned. Hernandez, did an excellent job portraying my partner."

  


Disgusted at the remembrance of the whole situation, Frank started to pace. "When Hernandez arrived with the other agents, everything seemed to be working as planned. Cortina had invited Hernandez and I to a dinner party the night before the drugs were supposed to be loaded for shipment. Several big name cartel members were present and we both played our roles well while the entertainment and dinner commenced. But I can't tell you how hard it was to maintain the front after what we witnessed earlier in the day. Monica, I can't describe what it felt like to rub elbows with all these druglords. It sickened me, knowing the ruthless way they kept people under submission working for them." 

  


Frank stopped talking, overtaken by the visions of horror flooding forth from the dark recesses of his mind where only 'nightmares lived' are stored. 

  


I witnessed it all, as Hernandez and I were given a tour of the compound earlier in the day. Also, we saw some men and women who had been brought to the compound the day before we arrived. These people refused to work for Cortina and were paying for it dearly. They were in an outbuilding and were being beaten mercilessly. Then the women, after being beaten, were being used over and over while their husbands were made to watch. I couldn't even so much as flinch, or my cover would've been blown. I was supposed to be this tough, uncompromising drug trafficker and my counterpart was supposed to have the same demeanor. It was all I could do not to give in to my gut instincts right then and there. I remember glancing over at Hernandez. He just looked at it impassively as if it was nothing more than a normal sight of everyday life. Hernandez was playing his part very well."

  


"That night, after the dinner was well over with, I was really nervous about the next days shipment and takedown. Even though I was only an agent for a few years, I had been placed in charge of this major assignment and I hated every minute of it. We had twenty agents with us, excluding Hernandez and myself. These guys had been agents a lot longer than I had been, but they handled the fact that I had been given the lead over it with no problem at all. Back at the Bureau, these guys all seemed to be accepting and supportive of me from the first day I showed up as a new agent. I really liked those guys. Anyways, I couldn't sleep that night and paced restlessly in my room. The villa we were staying in was very spacious and Hernandez and I both had separate large suites. His suite was adjacent to mine. We both retired at the same time." 

  


"Walking to our suites, he could see that I was very upset about what I had seen happening earlier in the day as well as nervous about the upcoming events and he tried to calm me down some. He said something like 'kid, things are gonna work out. You wait and see.' 

  


"Like I said, I had tried to suppress the horrible feeling I had about the whole situation, and did well during the dinner and gathering before and after the meal, but once I was on my way to the suite, I couldn't control the feelings at all. He was so calm. I attributed his calmness to the fact that he had been an agent for four years more than I. The other agents posing as our men, were staying in a large outbuilding where manual labor workers were housed. They had all been agents a lot longer than I had been as well." 

  


"Actually, in a very different situation, it would have been quite relaxing. The estate, in itself, was beautiful and it would have been quite a pleasure to stay, had it not been a druglord's domain. To this day, I still can't imagine how any of the men and women employed at the estate could live there in relative comfort, knowing what horrors were going on deeper inside the compound."

  


"I tried, but sleep evaded me. I continued to pace the floor long after I had prepared for bed, and walked out the terrace doors of my room to lay back on one of the chaise loungers and stare at the stars. My room was on the second floor and facing rolling hills behind the mansion. All was quiet in the night for a long time and I started to dose. Then I heard voices in the courtyard below. It seemed to be an argument of some sort. The voices were in a hushed tone, but I could still tell that they were arguing. I lay down on the floor and carefully worked my way to the terrace's edge to look through the lattice work, and saw who was arguing. It was Cortina and Hernandez. It startled me at first, as I thought Hernandez had been found out. But that was not what the heated discussion suggested."

  


Frank turned and looked Monica square in the eyes. She could see the pain of blatant betrayal in them. "It was a setup, Monica. They were at odds to who would have the honor of killing me! Hernandez argued that he had been following my steps throughout this whole operation and wanted the job. He told Cortina that he had been waiting a long time to take me down. Wanted to get rid of me because he had heard from Bloom that I was headed to the top. Hernandez had followed me with interest and had been a spy for Cortina in the Bureau. Cortina, on the other hand, wanted to kill me himself, because I was trying to bring down his drug empire."

  


"That had jogged my memory to the day that Bloom had said that Hernandez had specifically requested to work with me on any missions I was lined up for. Hernandez had worked with me on several projects before Bloom had told me of this, and thought that it was because Hernandez liked my techniques in achieving success in the missions assigned. But then I realized that all he wanted to do was get close to me and eventually take me out."

  


Monica stood there staring wide-eyed at Frank, realizing what hell he had gone through, and was actually getting a 'from the horses mouth' account of his well-sealed file. Now she understood why Frank's file was so classified. There had been attempts to assassinate him by spies within.

  


"Frank, you said Hernandez was working with you on other projects? Where was your partner?" Monica queried.

  


Haunted eyes turned to greet Monica's. "He had been murdered by a sniper," Frank said, averting his eyes. "Almost a year before the Cortina operation."

  


Frank sat down on one of the chairs facing his desk. He looked dejected, betrayed, and just downright miserable. She could sense that this whole story had a major role in the training they were going to participate in. Through her specialized profile training, she had learned many aspects of how the mind, in general, worked. Frank was definitely on his way to a serious 'overload'. Now she suddenly realized that Frank's going through the training again might just be the breaking point of not only his professional career, but may very well destroy his quality of life completely.

  


Monica walked over and sat in the chair next to Frank. He was leaning over with his face buried in his hands. Her heart went out to him, but there was little she could do to comfort the raging emotions attacking his senses. 

  


Frank managed to compose himself to a reasonable degree and sat back in the chair. "I did the only thing I could think of. I ran to the outbuilding where the other agents were. I was sure that not all of them were in on this. I was right. When I got to the building, I opened the door and hurried in. The agents were there alright. They were all there, and quite dead. From the looks of them, it seemed that they had been murdered not more than an hour before. I had to get word out to Bloom—of the double-cross and the murders. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Flight to Perdition

_Hello ladies! I know it's been soooo long since I updated this story. Well, you know how life can get. But I'm in the right frame of mind(and I don't have a clue why)to write, so here it is! LOLOL, it's been so long, you all probably don't even remember the story. _

  


_Anyways, thanks so much to all of you for taking the time to read and review chappies 1 and 2. It means more to me than I can say!_

  


_Disclaimer: Of course, as we all know, we don't own Frank(what a crying shame!)or any of the other characters from the series. Only those unrecognizable folks are my property._

  
  


___MALICIOUS INTENT_

  


  


_CHAPTER 3_

  


  


_FLIGHT TO PERDITION_

  
  


Frank was more than a little agitated on the day scheduled for their departure. He'd packed a duffel bag with the few necessary items before remembering that he really wouldn't be needing any of that stuff anyway. 'What the hell,' Frank thought. 'Might as well take it for the trip there and back.'

  


Zipping the bag up, he turned and looked at the surroundings in his apartment. He always had a habit of doing that; making sure that everything was off and perfectly in its place. He afforded himself a laugh; the habit always got on his last nerve, but nevertheless, he always wound up doing it.

  


Frank walked to the front door and opened it. Closing his eyes, a great sigh escaped his lips and he leaned his head against the door frame. He didn't want to go, didn't want to go through all the brutal treatment all over again. He'd had more than his fair share the first go-round, but now, here he was, willingly heading straight into the worst program the FBI had ever conceived. But the most important thing that kept crossing his mind was that he was going for the benefit of his team. Never in a thousand years would he ever consider letting them walk into 'that' program without him. Regardless to whatever good it would prove to do, he would be with them through it all.

  


Pulling into the Nest, Frank sat behind the wheel of his car and stared into nothingness. Thinking back on 'that' time on the island would do him no good. Maybe they had improved on the techniques in the program and made it more 'agent friendly' because of past events? He doubted that, since all of the agents who went there seemed to be disappearing from the face of the earth. 

  


'Vanishing,' he thought. 'Where could they have gone?' They had to go somewhere and someone on that island had to know where. Were they all dead? He wished his team hadn't been chosen for this.

  


A knock on the window brought him back to the here-and-now. Frank jumped slightly at the sound and saw that Monica, Cody, Alex, and Jake were all standing together, waiting for him to get out. 

  


"Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts," Frank said sheepishly. "Everybody ready to leave?"

  


"As ready as we'll ever be," Monica replied, trying to project a confidence that she didn't feel. She wished to comfort Frank, but words couldn't be found that would help him through this repeat training.

  


Frank had never finished telling her all that had happened, but had promised to finish filling her in on the plane. It was a special FBI jet and no others would be on board except the pilot and co-pilot.

  


Everyone watched Frank carefully as they waited for the ride that was coming to pick them up. Frank looked at Cody and shook his head at the number of bags he was toting. All of the others had two bags each but Cody, well, Cody had five.

  


Frank had needed a good laugh and Cody provided one. He looked more like a tourist than an FBI agent going on training. "Cody…you know we aren't going to be needing much on the island, right?" Frank said, still shaking his head. "In fact, everything we're bringing, the bare necessities even, aren't going to be used down there."

  


"What! What do you mean?" exclaimed Cody. "We aren't even going to use toothbrushes or deodorant?"

  


"Nothing," Frank said blandly. "Nothing at all. This is a training mission and one like you've never been through before. Like I said, its description is basically hell on earth."

  


Jake had listened to everything that was being said and just couldn't understand Frank. He'd never understood Frank. The man was made of steel or something. He was walking into a training mission that had wound him up in a psychiatric ward for therapy. Now, the man was walking into the same thing again and worse yet, he knew what he was facing.

  


"Why, Frank?" Jake asked.

  


"Why what, Jake?" Frank said, a puzzled look on his face.

  


"Why would you want to go through training that already sent you to a psychiatric ward for therapy?" Jake replied. "Why Frank? YOU don't have to do this. I can read it in your eyes; you're dreading this! But yet, here you go, heading into the training again!"

  


"Because we always do missions as a team," Frank said, skirting the issue. He didn't want his true feelings to surface, and fought to keep them buried.

  


Jake just stood and stared at Frank for a few minutes, in total silence. The others looked on and wondered what was going on between the two, staring each other down.

  


"The real reason, Frank," Jake asked. "Let's get down to brass tacks. I want to know the real reason." 

  


Frank looked at the ground and shuffled a foot nervously, raking the loose gravel to and fro. He didn't want to show his feelings to his people. Didn't want to make them see everything that weighed so heavily on his heart. He always kept tightlipped about his feelings and had developed a hard-nosed reputation for it. However, deep inside, his heart was aching for them all. Concerning Monica and Alex, his emotional stress greatly multiplied. The things they would go through would be beyond any imaginable humiliation and torment.

  


"Because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't. Because where you go, I go. Because deep down inside, I'm compelled to do it," Frank said, shocked that he divulged that much.

  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  


The van arrived just as they had finished locking all the luggage in the Nest for safekeeping.

  


Pulling up to the curb, the van's widows were darkly tinted, giving an ominous impression.

  


Monica and Alex looked at each other rather curiously. This van was stifling looking; black exterior, fathomless windows, everything giving way to a sense of foreboding. 

  


"Ah, I don't know about this," Alex said giving way to her initial feelings.

  


"OH! Come on Alex!" Monica retorted. "You are just letting your imagination take hold of you! Look, we're all in this together. Everything is going to be just fine, trust me."

  


The van doors slid open automatically, the interior barely visible with the meager amount of sunlight allowed in through the dark windows. 

  


Jake took the initiative and reached in to introduce himself to the quiet driver. The driver had not so much as even looked their way. He stared ahead of him through the windshield, waiting for the group to board.

  


"Hey, I'm Agent Jake Shaw," Jake said reaching out a hand to the driver, to which no response was given. Not one to be put off, Jake pressed the issue. "And you are?"

  


The reticent driver continued to stare ahead through dark sunglasses, never once giving any indication that he had heard Jake. With a cynical look in his eyes, Jake turned to look at his teammates and rolled his eyes.

  


Alex leaned sideways, whispering to Monica. "Look at this guy! I wonder what's up his behind?"

  


"I don't know. Maybe he is not the talkative type," Monica replied. 

  


"Maybe he's just the _rude_ type," Jake whispered.

  


Suddenly, Cody's eyes opened wide. "Maybe he's been through the training? Maybe this is what it has done to him!?" a strained whisper crossed his lips.

  


Startled eyes flashed recognition with those two simple statements. All eyes fell on Frank who stared back at each team member. Frank only response was a raised eyebrow and slight tilt of his head in probable concession to the questions.

  


"Maybe it isn't going to be just fine after all," Monica muttered, desperately trying to hide her rising anxiety.

  


The drive to the airport was uneventful. All were lost in their own gloom and doom with the prospect of being victimized by the Bureau for this dread training. Cody tried to make small talk, but there were no takers. He settled back into his seat trying to get as comfortable as possible. Cody eventually decided that studying Frank would be a far better form of amusement considering that he couldn't even take his notebook computer with him. He felt naked without his notebook and desperately needed something to pacify his ever-increasing unease. 

  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  


The flight commenced on schedule and Cody, Alex and Jake continued to submerge themselves into thoughts of what they were facing. Monica watched Frank intently. She didn't like what she saw in his eyes. The look spoke volumes. He was a man tormented beyond any possible hope of redemption. 

  


"Frank, how are you?" Monica queried, wanting to get some form of response from him. 

  


Frank continued to stare out of the window. Deep within the recesses of subconscious thought, Frank's mind was reliving his experience on the island. His most haunting memory was being isolated after the interrogation/beating at the end of the day. Being caged like an animal was humiliating. The inability to sit or lie down in that cage multiplied the problem. But being caged alone and unable to communicate with the other agents being subjected to the program was pure torment. The times they were allowed together, albeit few, the agents seemed to draw strength from each other, which helped them endure the harshness of the program. 

  


"Frank?" Monica said, gently grabbing his shoulder.

  


Frank jumped as he was brought back to the present. He looked at Monica, the haunted expression still in his eyes. For once, he actually wanted to reach out to someone, but he couldn't. Shifting his field of view momentarily, he tried to shake off the rising anxiety. "Sorry Monica, I was lost in thought," Frank said, attempting a slight smile. "You need something?"

  


"Well, sorta," Monica said, hoping he'd respond. "I was thinking...."

  


"Oh now, that's dangerous!" Cody quipped, interrupting Monica.

  


"Shut up, Cody!" Monica snapped. It always irritated her when he did that while she was trying to breech a difficult subject.

  


Cody grinned ear-to-ear at Monica, to which she conceded for the moment; a smile erupting on her face. She was glad in some small way for the diversion from the stifling tension surrounding them.

  


"Now, if you will; let me finish, hmmm?" Monica said, smiling.

  


Cody shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his seat, giving in to Monica's wishes.

  


"Frank, as I was starting to say," Monica said, rolling her eyes at Cody. "You didn't finish your story. Can we hear the rest of it now?"

  


Frank looked at her, not really wanting to relive the rest of that nightmare again. He had made a mistake of opening up about it. He had talked too much. Now, he would never hear the end of it.

  


"Monica, I really don't feel like talking about it," Frank said, hoping he could postpone the inevitable.

  


"Come on Frank," Monica looked at him with pleading eyes. "I'd really like to know what else happened. It might help you to talk about it."

  


"We want to know the rest of the story too," Jake said, never breaking his gaze through the window. "It's amazing how the Bureau can cover-up that kinda mission and its end results from the eyes of other agents. I'm not saying that the end result was your fault, Frank. I'm just saying that nobody has ever heard of that undercover operation. There's no information in the Bureau files to even suggest of such an operation. Why the coverup?"

  


"Because of the cartel planted within the Bureau," Frank explained. "They know there are more. They just can't smoke them out yet."

  


"Do they have any leads to their identity?" Monica queried.

  


"No clues. Whoever they are is anybody's guess. They're really slick and I hope that we find out who they are very soon. I'm tired of being a target," Frank sighed in exasperation.

  


"What!" Monica said, joined by three other voices in unison. 

  


Frank looked at them impassively. He knew that he shouldn't have told them about this, not yet at least. Everything had been touch-and-go from the time he had made his escape from Cortino. Everywhere he went, he was being watched by other agents for the benefit of his protection. On more than one occasion after his escape, he'd been targeted. Death threats sent through the mail were the norm. He received them every day for a couple of months and the Bureau's upper echelon thought that it would be better if he were out of the picture for a while. They were formulating a plan to protect his identity when a team of geniuses from the Bureau had come up with their newest training exercise. His boss happened to be on the team that devised it and thought that Frank would be a good candidate for it. Also, it would keep him out of the line of fire for a while. That way, if anyone tried to get to Frank, the FBI would be able to determine who they were. 

  


But things didn't work out the way the Bureau had planned. There were no attempts on Frank's life and none of the Cartel plants gave up their cover. But after the first team went to the training, things went haywire; the training did more harm than good. All of the agents were placed in a psychiatric facility in an attempt to analyze and treat the psychological after-effects of the training. Frank's file was sealed and he was sent away for an extended vacation as a protective measure. When he came back, Frank was given charge over a team; his current team. But he was never the same.

  


"Frank?" Jake queried, bringing Frank out of his thoughts.

  


"Sorry, I was thinking," Frank replied, feeling stupid to be caught staring into space yet again.

  


"Ok Frank, let's here the rest of the story," Jake said, taking a seat next to him.

  


Frank sighed again, relenting to his team. He knew it would do no good to divulge what had happened at Cortino's villa, but Frank trusted his team implicitly and knew that whatever he said to them would remain confidential.

  


"Where was I?" Frank asked, not remember exactly where he left off.

  


"You ran to where the rest of the agents were supposed to be, only to find that they were dead," Monica replied.

  


"Right," Frank said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out in front of him. "I ran to the outbuilding that the other agents were in. As I said, they were all dead. Cortino knew about the whole undercover operation, thanks to Hernandez. He had them killed and I was next, so it seemed. I turned to run, but was met by the cold muzzle of a gun firmly placed behind my right ear."

  


Frank fidgeted in his chair, fleeting images passing before him of his near-death experience. 

  


"If the odds had been a little more even, I would have tried to fight, but there were just too many of them. All of Cortino's men were heavily armed with semi-automatic weapons which just so happened to be trained on my head. I knew I didn't have a chance; even if I managed to take one down, the effort would have proven to be futile."

  


Frank closed his eyes, pausing once more, a slight shiver coursing through him with the remembrance of that frightening night. Opening his eyes, Frank noticed that his whole team had moved out of their seats, forming a close circle around him, all wide-eyed and intent on hearing how their boss had gotten out of that deadly predicament. Frank briefly scanned their faces, knowing that they were totally baffled at how he made it out of their alive and desperately wanted some answers.

  


A deep sigh escaped Frank's lips as he continued. "No one said a word to me. My eyes were trained on the man standing in front of me when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs of the building. It was Cortino and Hernandez. Cortino didn't say anything but rather just stood there and stared at me. I guess he was sizing me up, I don't really know for sure. Cortino then looked over at Hernandez and nodded his approval about something."

  


Turning to look out the window, Frank shook his head at the dire thoughts he remembered having as he awaited his fate. But now, sharing his experience with his team was rather disconcerting, as it would only prove to them that the first major mission he had been placed in charge of had ended in disaster. This was the ultimate thorn in his side—knowing that he had failed the men under him. 

  


"Hernandez moved so fast, I didn't even know it was coming. He hit me in the face with the butt of his rifle, knocking me to the floor. I was stunned from the impact and had difficulty trying to rise. Not moving fast was a big mistake, because Hernandez then kicked me hard in the stomach—really hard."

  


Frank looked up at Monica, her eyes full of anticipation. 

  


"It was difficult to breathe. So much for being able to defend myself," Frank said ruefully. "I remember looking point blank into the eyes of Hernandez. Despite the head wound and the abdominal pain I was experiencing, I put every bit of effort into lunging at him."

  


Frank's smirk betrayed his inner-satisfaction at what had transpired.

  


Everyone's curiosity increased tenfold with Frank's smirk, betraying his pleasure at some hidden memory.

  


"Frank, was it worth the effort?" Jake asked curiously. If the look on Frank's face was any indication; it definitely had been worth it.

  


"Without a doubt," Frank said without further thought on his answer. "They hadn't yet checked me for weapons and I had a knife stowed away in my boot. I quickly pulled it out and gave Hernandez a scar to remember me by."

  


"Where did you cut him?" Monica asked.

  


"As I said, I put all my effort into it. I lunged and sliced him from his left shoulder all the way down to his waist—diagonally. I imagine he is sporting quite a scar today, if he's still alive," Frank replied, still a slight smile on his face.

  


"You think you may have killed him," Jake's said, his expression one of extreme curiosity.

  


"No, the cut I gave him was a really good one, but not one that would kill. But Cortino may have killed him. That man is well known for his extreme distaste of failure and Hernandez failed him by underestimating the situation—by being too sure of himself. I'm sure that Cortino executed him because of my escape." 

  


"What did they do to you after that—how did you get away from them?" Cody exclaimed.

  


"I wasn't able to escape right away. After I cut Hernandez, Cortino's men had the pleasure of beating me up. The last thing I remember was a sharp pain in my skull. I guess someone kicked me in the head, I really don't know," Frank said, wincing at reliving the pain. "All I can remember is a blinding pain in my head when I woke up. I was tied up in a chair in a dark, damp room. I really couldn't make out my surroundings too well, as my vision was really blurred," Frank added.

  


"You must have had a concussion. That would explain the blurred vision," said a sympathetic Monica.

  


"I don't doubt that I had a concussion at all," Frank concurred. "But I believe the blurred vision was because of all the blood that had congealed in my eyes. I don't think there was an inch of skin on my face that wasn't covered with dried blood, not to mention the rest of my body." He sighed, remembering the agonizing pain he'd suffered. "Sometime later, I managed to escape through a window. That's basically it," Frank said, hoping that what he had told his team would satisfy their curiosity. He didn't like re-living the past, and he was getting to the most painful part of that particular brush with death. Actually, he had told his team the truth. He had been beaten, thrown down into a dark cell, and had escaped through a window. But he didn't wish to go into detail about how long he had suffered at their hands and 'how' long it had taken for him to actually escape the clutches of Cortino and Hernandez. Most of all, he didn't want to face the memories about the woman who had aided him in his escape, only to leave her behind to face her own fate. If he did that, demons from his past would surely surface and hinder his concentration on the problems they were to face on the island. He needed a clear head for that.

  


"Just like that, huh?" Alex said, knowing that Frank was leaving most of the story unsaid.

  


"Yeah, just like that," Frank replied curtly, getting aggravated with being the center of attention. "Can we change the subject no, please?"

  


"Sure thing, boss," Monica said, focusing gentle eyes on his weary face. "We shouldn't have pressed you for that information. I know, it must really be hard to discuss, much less having actually gone through it."

  


Monica was truly worried about Frank's state of mind. He was a man who valued his privacy, and she was well aware of that fact. But something just wasn't right about this story; too many details had been left out. Something must have happened that had permanently damaged his heart—his soul. 

  


Monica and Alex looked at each other, knowing well that they were both thinking the same thing. This particular mission had been the beginning of a chain of events that had turned Frank's world upside down. Monica gave Alex a look that silently told her she would find out the information to fill in the gaps. All she needed was a little time.

  


Frank had been staring at his watch, noting that they had been underway for nearly an hour. Vaguely remembering what Monica had just said, he leaned back in his chair once again, closing his eyes to rest.

  


"No need to apologize, Monica. That's all water under the bridge," Frank said earnestly. He didn't want his team to worry unduly about something that had nothing to do with their own welfare on this island——or would it? 

  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  


Everything had been prepared for the new recruits who would arrive by day's end. All staff members had been briefed on each agent arriving on the plane and the month's schedule had been meticulously planned.

  


The administrator smiled as he read over the Bureau files of each agent. He had enjoyed his newly acquired position and had utilized it to the fullest. Two teams of agents had already been through the training under his leadership; eight members of those teams were now dead and two were soon to follow. 

  


Leaning back in his overstuffed chair, he watched the rising smoke ring that had formed as he puffed on his cigar. In that smoke ring, he visualized the face of the man he despised above anyone else floating lazily towards the ceiling—Frank Donovan.

  


Too many times had Donovan dashed his plans. Too many times had the effects of Donovan's interference in his business with his connections in the States led to severe financial loss and credibility with his business associates. 

  


Laughing at the prospect of having Donovan landing right in his waiting arms after all the trouble Donovan had caused him, gave the 'administrator' the irresistible urge to kill him on sight. But that thought was quickly suppressed, as there wouldn't be any enjoyment in a quick and mindless kill. No—he wanted Donovan to suffer, and watch his team suffer. Above all, he looked forward to seeing Donovan's reaction when he saw what had become of the woman he left behind.

  
  
  
  



End file.
